


The Aching Heart of Fate

by Triangulum



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, Incest, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:13:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23625952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triangulum/pseuds/Triangulum
Summary: Stiles thinks soulmates are dumb. He thinks the whole concept is dumb. He thinks meeting someone and instantly clicking and rearranging your whole life to be with someone you just met is fucking dumb. He thinks his mother dying and leaving the sheriff, her soulmate, a husk of a person for years is so goddamn dumb. So it just figures that fate decided to give Stiles the double middle finger and saddle him with not one but two soulmates.Stiles’ life is full of werewolves, his body full of magic, and his life full of stress. He’s got quite enough going on. Soulmates are fucking dumb and he wants nothing to do with them.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 75
Kudos: 1202
Collections: Secret Steter BFFs





	The Aching Heart of Fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Green](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/gifts).



> To the wonderful Green! I hope I hit the spirit of what you were hoping for!

Peter had never put much thought into his second soulmate. He knows they’re out there somewhere, their part of the mark on his shoulder still deep black, but they’re a secondary consideration. He has enough to deal with having his nephew as a soulmate, then he has enough to deal with when his family burns alive, then he has enough when he’s trapped in an agonizing coma for six years, then more than enough with being more than halfway insane, killing his niece, and burning alive again. 

When he’s back, a lot more sane and a lot less angry, he vaguely notes that the third piece of his soulmark is still deep black. He’s had the mark since he was born, a twisting, graceful knot, vaguely Nordic, with two of the three arms iridescent and shining, signifying the complete bond between him and Derek, something Peter had been pleasantly surprised to see remained on his skin once he was back from the dead. But the third section of the knot is still black and flat. 

Peter dismisses the black mark and whoever its match is. Derek is his focus now, fixing what’s so frayed and fragile and ready to snap between them. They don’t need a third, never have. He’s been happy enough to have Derek and isn’t interested in hunting for another when he has enough on his plate with proving to Derek that he’s worth being tied to.

So no, Peter doesn’t particularly care about his second soulmate. Wherever they are, they’re probably better off without him and Derek and the whole Hale shit show anyway.

* * *

Stiles thinks soulmates are dumb. He thinks the whole concept is dumb. He thinks meeting someone and instantly clicking and rearranging your whole life to be with someone you just met is fucking dumb. He thinks his mother dying and leaving the sheriff, her soulmate, a husk of a person for years is so goddamn dumb. So it just figures that fate decided to give Stiles the double middle finger and saddle him with not one but two soulmates. 

At least that’s what Stiles assumes his unusual soulmark means. Most soulmarks are a unique variation of two threads weaving together, binding the two of them as one. The thing is, Stiles’ swirling mark doesn’t have two sections, it has three. A thread for him and one for each of his soulmates, tying his future to not one but two other people.

Stiles doesn’t care. He does his best to change quickly in the locker room at school, wearing an undershirt more often than not to keep anyone else from seeing the swirling knot over his right shoulder blade. Once his soulmates touch the mark, it will shine with completion of the bond. Until then, it’s black, and Stiles intends to keep it that way. 

Stiles’ life is full of werewolves, his body full of magic, and his life full of stress. He’s got quite enough going on. Soulmates are fucking dumb and he wants nothing to do with them.

* * *

Derek keeps his soulmate business to himself. No bitten werewolf would understand that having a soulbond with his uncle is only mildly taboo at worst, nor does he feel like answering any questions about why a third of his soulmark is dark. It’s no one’s business but his. He and Peter are finally in a tentatively good place, more likely to fuck than fight, and the last thing he wants to do is deal with adding someone new, not when he just got Peter back. Not when Peter’s not interested in their third.

It’s not made easier when the pack, stable for the moment, gets onto the topic of soulmates. Derek gets it, gets that being a teenager is a lot easier when thinking about the future with someone who’s destined to love you, that at least there’s some method to the madness of the universe. He doesn’t care that they dream and pine with starry eyes, as long as they don’t drag him into it. 

“It’s really pretty,” Erica says, looking at the looping soulmark on Isaac’s bicep. 

“Thanks,” Isaac says with a grin.

“I wish I had one,” Erica says, almost wistfully.

“Me too,” Scott says, looking over her shoulder.

“Do you?” Stiles snaps. “Sounds like a fun little prison you’d have.”

Isaac and Erica both startle at the venom in his voice. Boyd glances at Scott, who winces a bit.

“Stiles is a little sensitive about soulmates because of his parents,” Scott says softly, as if Stiles isn’t sitting right there. 

Stiles’ jaw clenches like it does when he’s gearing up to fight, but he doesn’t say anything. Derek frowns, glancing at where Peter is standing a dozen feet away, leaning against the wall. Peter meets his gaze with a narrowing of the eyes and Derek knows he doesn’t quite buy it either. Part of the truth, maybe, but not all of it. Though Stiles has always been quite skilled at circumventing the truth, so Derek lets it be. All he’d do if he pressed is earn a pissed off Stiles.

“I’m gonna grab more chips,” Stiles grumbles under his breath before disappearing into Derek’s kitchen. Peter glances at Derek once more before following. Derek gives it 50-50 odds of Peter finding out anything interesting versus being kicked in the kidneys, though Derek’s odds would probably be at 70-30 in favor of a kidney shot, so he’s happy to stay where he is.

* * *

“Those don’t look like chips,” Peter says. Stiles jumps, which normally Peter would be pleased with, but he’s focused on the fading pink lights that had been dancing between Stiles’ fingertips a moment before. 

“I was debating if I could hit Scott through the wall, but figured it’d just blow up one of Derek’s few hole-free walls,” Stiles says. He picks up the bag of Doritos, ripping it open. 

“And who knows if it’s load-bearing. You may just kill us all,” Peter says solemnly. 

Stiles snorts. “You’d all be fine and you know it.”

Peter shrugs. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks. Sometimes it’s best to be blunt with Stiles. Sometimes he’ll play along with Peter’s games, a bit amused, but sometimes he has zero patience. He has a feeling tonight is the latter. “Or do you want to pretend your best friend isn’t a bumbling idiot?”

“How about we meet in the middle,” Stiles says, levitating a chip to his mouth. Peter’s pleased at how well he’s progressing with fine control of his magic. “How about we don’t talk about it and we also don’t bother pretending Scott has any tact?”

“I can accept that compromise,” Peter says. Stiles narrows his eyes a bit, understandably suspicious at Peter agreeing to anything easily, but lets it go, probably not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

Stiles glances over Peter’s shoulder at the doorway to the living room. “Are they still on soulmates?” Stiles asks quietly and oh, Peter desperately wants to pry. 

Instead, he listens harder to the conversation in Derek’s living room. “No. Derek is helping Erica with her geometry homework.”

“Good,” Stiles says. He picks up the Doritos and walks out, leaving Peter alone and very curious in the kitchen. 

Very interesting.

* * *

The last thing Stiles wants is to be the recipient of Peter’s undivided attention and not only is that what he becomes, but Derek starts watching him closer too. Normally he can either ignore or laugh at the fact that all his werewolf friends’ senses can pick up everything. It’s funny to laugh at Scott’s face because he can hear exactly what Isaac is doing to the bathroom after too many tacos. Less funny when he can feel Peter and Derek’s eyes on him whenever they’re together, how he has to watch what he says because he knows they’re always listening. A huge Hale pain in the ass.

It’s almost a relief when Scott gets a whiff of a strange werewolf out in the preserve, meaning Peter and Derek finally have a new target for all that scrutiny. They figure out pretty quickly that the werewolf is an omega and either feral or close to it. Scott takes Kira and Isaac in one direction in the preserve, Derek, Stiles, Peter, and Allison going the other way. Usually Stiles would roll his eyes at Scott sending Allison with him, Derek, and Peter, something that’s been happening a lot more because he just doesn’t trust them “to always make the right decisions”, but it’s helpful now. Allison is a good buffer a lot of the time. Probably because she’s so well-armed.

Stiles has been working on enchanting the hell out of a rowan bat at home, but it’s not quite done so he has his backup tonight, a regular aluminum bat wrapped in wolfsbane. Between that, Allison’s bow, and Derek and Peter’s claws, Stiles isn’t too worried about one omega. What Stiles didn’t count on was the omega acting like the Florida bath salts guy. Allison shoots him and he barely blinks, just roars and keeps running at them. She gets him in the knee and it barely slows him down. 

He’s heading straight for Allison, like Stiles doesn’t even exist. Peter and Derek are still a few dozen yards away, definitely not going to get there before the omega’s claws get to Allison. Stiles swears under his breath and pulls up all the magic he can, yanking the omega up into the air. It’s not easy, he hasn’t exactly practiced this with someone so bad and so...wriggly, had just gone with intuition, and the writhing isn’t helping. 

Stiles’ arms are shaking and he knows he can’t hold this for long. He jerks his hands to the side, slamming the omega into a tree before dropping him to the ground at Peter and Derek’s feet. He’s still twitching, like he’s trying to stand. Before Stiles can even call out a warning, Peter’s snapped his neck, the body flopping lifelessly to the forest floor.

Stiles’ heart is beating almost painfully hard, his breath coming quick and his hands shaking from exertion. Allison pats him on the back and murmurs her thanks as she moves by, crouching by the body to retrieve her arrows and make sure he’s truly dead. Stiles swallows hard and looks up. Peter and Derek are staring at him, Peter with a nearly predatory look on his face, Derek with an intense, very unreadable expression.

Well, fuck.

* * *

Peter’s not ashamed to admit that the first time he sees Stiles levitate a rogue omega, he’s more than a little turned on. By the smell of Derek next to him, he’s not alone in that. The only thing that keeps him from purring Stiles’ name is the presence of the Argent girl yanking her arrows out of the omega’s corpse. 

Scott and the others show up a few minutes later. Stiles reminds them it’s Scott and Isaac’s turn for body disposal before turning on his heel and heading back with Allison. Peter looks over at Derek, who’s watching them both go. Derek’s good at controlling his expressions, but Peter’s an expert in reading him and knows just what Stiles’ display of power is doing for him. It certainly gives Peter ideas. 

Peter’s always felt...a certain draw to Stiles. It’s not just his mind, though Peter is thrilled by how quick and devious it is. There’s something vicious in him that calls to Peter. He’s known his focus has to be Derek, though. He knows that building this thing growing between them is his priority and any thoughts of Stiles are useless. But smelling Derek’s clear interest...it makes Peter want to try something.

Later that night at Peter’s apartment, while he’s buried deep inside Derek, he leans forward, teeth grazing the shell of Derek’s ear. He has him on all fours and has been slowly rocking into him for the last half hour, reveling in the mewls and whimpers he’s able to draw from his nephew. Derek’s getting close, his scent sweetening and body tightening.

Peter grins, lips moving against Derek’s ear as he murmurs, “Think of how lovely Stiles would look between us. His pretty little mouth would look so good stretched around your cock.”

Derek whines, hands gripping the sheets under him until his knuckles turn white. “Peter…”

“I’ve seen you watching those long fingers,” Peter murmurs, thrusting harder. “I can smell your arousal around him.” Derek tries to protest but Peter just shushes him, fucking into him harder than before. “I’m not angry, sweetheart, I know you can smell just how much I like it.”

“Peter, please…” Derek whimpers.

“Touch yourself,” Peter growls. “Go ahead, make yourself come thinking about us taking him apart.”

Derek’s hand immediately moves between his legs, wrapping around his hard cock. It’s barely thirty seconds before he’s coming, hissing Peter’s name as he spends himself on the sheets. Peter groans, the rippling sensation of Derek’s hole clenching around him exquisite. A half-dozen thrusts later and Peter’s coming with a groan, emptying himself deep inside Derek.

Neither of them move for a long moment, then Peter’s slowly pulling back, his softening cock slipping from Derek’s body. Derek collapses forward, just barely missing the mattress’ wet spot, his breaths harsh and uneven. Peter takes a second to just stare down at him. All sweaty and debauched and _his_. He doesn’t bother to hide his rumble of satisfaction before settling next to Derek, running a hand up and down his arm.

Derek rolls to his side, his head resting on Peter’s bicep, his eyes trained somewhere near his chin. Peter just keeps stroking his arm calmly. He knows that Derek will talk when he’s ready, has finally learned when to not push. Eventually Derek sighs and looks up to meet his eyes.

“You’re not mad?” he asks.

In the past, Peter may have played dumb, may have dragged it out of Derek. May have made it a game that Derek tends to hate. He likes to think he’s matured a bit since then. 

“Of course not,” Peter says, leaning in to kiss him lightly. “It’s a lovely fantasy, sweetheart. One I enjoy quite a bit.”

Derek relaxes against him completely, molding his body to Peter’s. “Good,” he mumbles, nuzzling at Peter’s shoulder. “Good.”

* * *

It becomes a bit of a thing after that. Derek pays more attention to just how Peter looks at Stiles, at the way his gaze darkens when he does something particularly clever. Derek’s been trying to ignore the tug he feels toward Stiles, has been trying to pretend that his attention has been caught in a purely packmate sense. It’s a little harder to pretend when he knows Peter’s looking at Stiles the same way he is, when Peter whispers words of how good Stiles would feel around their cocks, how pretty he’d look all marked up from them. He wonders when their watching Stiles turned from curiosity about his hatred of soulmarks to this.

Derek’s fantasies have involved Stiles for much longer than they should have. Peter, his soulmate, had been dead, and Derek had been a mess of rage and guilt and sadness...He shouldn’t have been thinking of all the things he wanted to do to Scott’s interfering friend. He shouldn’t have been comforted by his presence, shouldn’t have been fighting away a smile at his quips, shouldn’t have been straining not to lean into his brief touches. But he had.

Then Peter had come back and consumed nearly all of Derek’s attention. Fixing what was broken between them, what was shattered nearly beyond all recognition, had taken everything Derek had. He’d missed Stiles, something that had surprised him at the time, but he’d pushed that deep, deep down. He’d poured all his focus into Peter, into fixing what they had, until he finally feels now that he’s on more solid ground.

Now that he and Peter are better, the thoughts of Stiles seep in. There’s a bit of guilt in the back of his mind, but he knows fantasies don’t need to mean anything. Even if his fantasies include he and Peter taking Stiles apart until he’s sobbing their names, fitting perfectly between them. Even if his fantasies now involve Stiles being their third...Stiles taking him and Peter at the same time, stretched wide around them as the completed soulbond surges through them...They’re just fantasies. If his eyes linger on Stiles more often recently, well...

The thing is, Stiles can be many things (loud, abrasive, brazen), but unobservant isn’t one of them. He notices he’s being watched. Sometimes he doesn’t seem to mind; he practically lights up when he, Peter, and/or Derek get into particularly spirited debates or when they tell him some bit of supernatural trivia he hadn’t known. It’s...wonderful, actually. It fills Derek with a surprising amount of warmth seeing Stiles open more to them, to know that when they met their interactions were tinged with fear and anger, but have morphed into understanding and friendliness.

But sometimes Stiles just...shuts down. Derek’s sure Peter has a theory on it, but he hasn’t asked him. He just knows that ever since Stiles snapped at Erica and Scott about soulmates, he’s paid more attention. When soulmates are mentioned, Stiles very carefully avoids contributing to the conversation. If the plot of whatever they’re watching on TV involves soulmates, Stiles pulls out his phone or laptop. 

Derek tries to steer clear of the subject, and notices Peter does as well, but he always feels like he’s stumbling into some hidden pitfall in their conversations. He feels like he’s constantly bumping into subjects that makes Stiles uncomfortable, causing him to pull back randomly, and Derek just can’t seem to figure out _why_.

“He wants you,” Peter purrs in his ear when they’re in the loft’s kitchen, the pack finally at their own homes. “He wants _us_ , and he’s embarrassed, poor thing.”

Derek swallows hard, turning to Peter, their noses brushing. “Does he know about us?” Derek asks quietly. His stomach squirms a bit and he can’t tell if it’s in a good way or not. 

Peter hums, stepping around until they’re chest-to-chest, his hands tight on Derek’s hips. “Most likely,” Peter says, his lips brushing Derek’s. “And he _likes_ it. I know you can smell how much he wants us. You can hear how his heart jumps when we touch him and when he sees us touch each other…”

Derek shudders, hands coming up to rest on Peter’s biceps. “I can,” he agrees. 

“We could have him,” Peter says, tilting his hips towards Derek’s, making him groan. “We could have him so easily.”

It’d be so easy, so easy to keep going. Stiles comes up a lot in their bedroom, and Derek loves it, but more and more...Derek slides his hands down to wrap around Peter’s wrists, stilling his movements. He steps back swallowing hard. Peter’s looking at him with raised eyebrows, turning his hands to lace his fingers with Derek’s, waiting for him to say something.

“It feels wrong,” Derek says, swallowing hard. “Wanting to bring Stiles in feels wrong.”

“Why?” Peter asks. No judgement, just curiosity. 

Derek sighs. “Because we have a third soulmate out there that we aren’t even pretending to care about, and you want to add Stiles?” Derek says.

“I see,” Peter says carefully, his face giving nothing away, and really, that’s what spurs Derek on.

“ _And_ we keep walking on eggshells around each other,” Derek says, his hands slipping from Peter’s as he takes a step back, running fingers distractedly through his hair. “We’re so afraid to say the wrong thing to make each other mad and shatter what we’ve built that it takes a week and a dozen conversations to say what we could in one five-minute talk.”

“Maybe I’m trying to turn over a kinder leaf,” Peter says. Derek shoots him a look that makes Peter sigh, his face morphing into something more pensive. “Fine.” There’s a long pause while Peter visibly gathers his thoughts, something Derek hasn’t seen for a very long time. Eventually, he says, “We just got each other back. I want to focus on what we have and build it stronger. I don’t want to ruin this by adding another soulmate. I love _you_ , I don’t need anyone else.”

It’s...it’s not that Peter is exactly shy with his affection. Derek knows he loves him, knows Peter would raze the Earth for him. It’s that they’ve been acting very careful, afraid of big declarations being _too_ big, but also afraid that assuming it’s unspoken being too little. It makes Derek settle a bit, hearing the words. But still…

“You don’t want to ruin this by adding a soulmate, but you’re fine adding Stiles?” Derek asks because even for his uncle, that’s a stretch of logic.

“For fun, not forever,” Peter says, the _obviously_ very heavily implied.

“Do you really think you’d want him only once?” Derek asks, eyebrow raised. Peter actually pauses at that, which makes Derek smirk a bit. “Look. I’m not demanding we find them. Even if I were, that’s not how it works,” he says. “I’m just...asking you to think about being open to them when we do meet.”

Peter sighs. “Yes, I will think about it,” he says. He sounds exasperated, which makes Derek think he actually means it. “Do you want me to stop using Stiles in our bedroom talk?”

Derek pauses and blushes a little, much to Peter’s delight. “Maybe not.”

* * *

So the thing is, Stiles is like, 93% sure Peter and Derek are fucking and about 80% sure they’re soulmates. There’s a level of synchronicity that really only happens with soulmates. They don’t finish each other’s sentences, but they seem to know exactly what the other is thinking. Derek will throw out an idea and before he’s even halfway done, Peter will be chiming in, seeming to already know all the details. Derek will be cooking and turn to ask Peter where something is and Peter’s already pulling the cumin out from the cupboard. It’s also in the way they touch each other, a hand on the shoulder that lingers a bit too long, the subtle trail of fingers over the back of the hand, the thighs pressed together when they’re sitting too near each other. And it’s doing _things_ to him. 

Stiles knows he should be disgusted. Peter is Derek’s uncle, his uncle by blood, but arousal still courses through him when he thinks of them together. He still takes his hard cock in hand, strokes himself desperately at the mental image of them together, of their hands and mouth wandering over each other’s body. He still comes imagining being touched by them.

Stiles researches. It’s hit and miss finding accurate information about werewolves on the best of days, but werewolves _and_ soulmates? Almost impossible. He’s sure Peter or Derek, book hoarders that they are, would have some illuminating literature, but he’s pretty sure broadcasting that he’s researching werewolf incest soulmates isn’t something he wants to be doing. From what little he can find, it seems it’s not...extremely rare? And not at all something they’d be shunned for, not at all like if they were uncle-nephew human soulmates. 

Stiles...doesn’t know what to do with that. So he just keeps doing what he’s been doing; he watches them and tries to force down the jolt of arousal that rushes through him when they touch a little too much for a little too long. Maybe he’d have been able to manage it, or at least pretend, if they didn’t start flirting with him, too.

He doesn’t notice it at first. Peter stands close to him when they’re poring over research, that’s not unusual. Derek bringing him snacks is odd, but not truly strange. He doesn’t think too much of it when they start touching him more; they’re werewolves, they’re tactile by nature, and Stiles knows he’s the one they get along with best out of the pack. But add in the compliments, private little smirks, and stir it all together, and he finally gets the hint.

It’s just the three of them at the loft, and it doesn’t make him uncomfortable like it would have a few weeks ago, right after he’d snapped at Scott and Erica about soulmates, but he’s still very aware of them. Scott had called a few hours ago, asking for any information on pixies, so they’ve been scouring all their sources since then. Stiles and Derek are sitting on one side of the kitchen table, leaning close over the same book, with Peter pacing behind them as he reads on his phone.

“Here!” Stiles says, pressing his finger to a paragraph in the book he and Derek have, detailing the exact species of pixie they’re dealing with (why are there over two-hundred??) and their weaknesses. “Call Scott, read him this,” Stiles says, passing the book to Peter behind him.

“Yes! Good boy,” Peter says. He squeezes Stiles’ shoulder and presses a kiss to the top of his head as he takes the book. 

Stiles straightens, blinking in confusion, then winces as his back and neck scream from him being hunched over the book for so long. Derek wraps his fingers around Stiles’ wrist, pulling the pain from his body. Stiles sighs and mumbles, “Thank you.”

“Peter’s right,” Derek murmurs, expression intensely focused on Stiles’ face, his thumb brushing over Stiles’ racing pulse. “You are the clever one.”

Stiles swallows hard, looking over to the windows where Peter’s on the phone with Scott, his eyes intent on Stiles and Derek. It’s _then_ that Stiles realizes exactly how much they’ve been flirting with him, and oh god, how much he’s been flirting with them back. He’s also positive they can smell just how interested he is. 

Stiles stands quickly, nearly knocking over his chair. “I, uh, have to go. My dad needs me home tonight. Uh, text if you need anything. Good job on us finding the pixies, yay research team! Okay, bye,” Stiles says quickly, turning on his heel and hurrying out the door. He can’t help but glance back, seeing the knowing smile on Peter’s face and Derek’s raised eyebrow. Damn it.

His dad is blessedly at work when Stiles gets home, which means he can bask in his embarrassment in peace. Looking back, it’s almost embarrassingly obvious. He definitely does _not_ feel like the clever one. There’s the time Peter brought coffee for him, Stiles, and Derek only, which yeah, seemed minor in the moment, but Peter _never_ goes out of his way like that for any of the others. There’s Derek’s soft words of praise, his touches gentle, like he’s realized that Stiles isn’t actually as durable as a werewolf. There’s the small touches, the lending of Hale books they won’t let anyone else near, the way they stand next to him just a touch closer than is socially appropriate. It’s dumb werewolf flirting and he hadn’t even noticed.

He doesn’t _get_ it, doesn’t get why Derek and Peter would be flirting with him when they have each other. He doesn’t understand why they’re not screaming at each other for hitting on someone right in front of their soulmate. Why aren’t they hitting _him_ for flirting with them? 

And oh, Stiles has been flirting back. He’s been touching them as often as they touch him, has been matching their compliments with his own, has been watching and wanting and god, why haven’t they told him to stop?

Is it to mock him? Because they’re bored? Stiles doesn’t know, and he doesn’t like not knowing things, so he’s perfectly content to huddle up at home and ignore everything. Unfortunately, the pixies don’t seem to care and barely an hour later, Stiles is climbing into his Jeep with his newly-finished enchanted bat in hand, riding to Scott’s rescue. 

They’re in the clearing in front of the Hale house, now an empty lot beyond the foundation Peter and Derek had recently had re-poured. There are...a _lot_ more pixies than Scott had made it sound like. Scott is nearly covered in a big pixie cloud, swiping them out of the air left and right. Isaac is unconscious on the ground, a healing cut on his forehead making Stiles think he probably just tripped on something and hit his head. Stiles isn’t sure where Boyd and Erica are, but he can hear them yelling from somewhere in the trees around them. 

Allison and Kira are back-to-back, Kira lashing out with electricity, Allison with her knives slashing them as they swarm them. Stiles runs toward them, since they don’t heal as well as the wolves, whacking pixies out of the air with his bat as he goes. His bat has so many defensive and offensive magics imbued in it that the pixies he hits aren’t being knocked down, they’re being all but vaporized into a puff of smoke. Holy shit.

The pixies seem to realize he’s the most lethal threat at the moment and converge on him, lashing out with their sharp little claws and teeth. He can feel the cuts opening, the blood dotting his skin. That’s fine with him. There’s plenty of magic he can do with a little blood. He hisses the incantation under his breath and a second later the pixies surrounding him are being blasted off in a rush of magic, obliterating the ones closest to him and stunning the rest in the twenty-foot radius. 

“Whoa,” Stiles says, staggering a bit. Using that much magic can take a lot out of him, leaving him a little lightheaded. Luckily most of the pixies that weren’t vaporized were stunned enough that the rest of the pack can finish them off rather quickly. Stiles groans, dropping to a knee, propping himself up on his bat for support. He can see Derek shoot him a worried glance from where he and Peter are ripping pixies apart. Stiles hadn’t even seen them arrive.

Kira drops to her knees next to him, hovering her hand like she wants to touch him but can’t find a place where the pixies haven’t bitten or scratched. She settles on touching his knee, looking at him in concern.

“I’m fine,” Stiles says, waving her away. “Just need a second. Check on Isaac.”

Kira nods and gets up, jogging over to where Isaac is groggily sitting up. That’s something Stiles really likes about Kira. She takes him at his word, never hovers, never asks if he’s sure he can do something. Very refreshing.

Boyd and Erica fight their way through the bushes a few moments later, looking a little bruised but all right. Scott and Allison are kind of kicking the pixie bodies into a pile for disposal, both of them looking none the worse for the wear, other than a nasty cut down Allison’s arm. Good, they’re all in one piece. 

Stiles feels a little stronger, the lightheadedness fading, and he uses the bat to pull himself up until he’s standing. He sighs, looking down at his ripped shirt. Another t-shirt bites with a supernatural cause of death. He can see Derek and Peter moving toward him out of the corner of his eye and he turns a bit, wanting a second to pull himself together before dealing with them. 

It’s when he hears Derek’s sharp inhale and Peter’s surprised hiss that Stiles realizes his shirt isn’t just torn on the front and he can feel a lot of air against the skin of his shoulder. Against his soulmark. He curses under his breath and slowly turns, Peter and Derek staring at him with incredulous expressions that are so perfectly matched that in any other situation, it’d be hilarious. As it is, though...just, shit.

* * *

Peter knows he’s staring. When he was a child, he’d make a game of keeping a straight face, of controlling his reactions so no one knew when he was surprised or scared. He was in a lonely place in the pack, the much younger brother of the future alpha, no other children his age, and he’d learned quickly that what the adults wanted was him to not be underfoot. So he’d worked at controlling his face, his reactions, that way the adults thought he was content and left him alone to do what he wanted.

Now though, after decades of perfecting this, he can’t quite remember how to bring up that ability. He can’t seem to stop staring at the black soulmark on Stiles’ shoulder blade, then at his face when he turns around to face them. Stiles eyes them warily, looking more uncomfortable than Peter can remember him being. He glances around quickly, checking to see if anyone else has noticed, but the pack’s attention seems to be on pixie cleanup.

It’s Derek who gets it together first, much to Peter’s chagrin. He takes a few steps forward, then slows a bit when Stiles takes a jerky step back. Stiles stays still when Derek moves slower, taking off his jacket as he goes, before handing it over. Stiles takes it with a nod, quickly pulling it on and covering his ripped shirt. He jerks a bit when Derek presses a hand to his shoulder, but doesn’t pull away. It’s then that Peter notices Stiles’ hands are shaking, and that finally spurs him into action. 

“We did body disposal last time,” Peter says to the group at large, not taking his eyes off Stiles and Derek. “We’re going to get some food into Stiles, try not to make too big of a mess.”

Peter doesn’t wait for Scott and the others to answer, turning on his heel and motioning for Stiles and Derek to get moving. Most of the time Stiles would tell him to fuck off just to be contrary, but he just flips him off before heading toward where they’re parked. Peter’s aching to see Stiles’ mark up close, is almost shocked by how much he wants to touch him and watch that mark turn iridescent (it would truly solve so many problems), but Stiles does seem half exhausted and feeding him probably should take priority. 

And they should definitely have a discussion about why someone seeing his soulmark made Stiles’ scent go sharp with distress.

Stiles isn’t out of it enough to let Peter drive his Jeep, giving him a flat look when he suggests it, but he lets him ride shotgun at least. Peter’s mind is racing, going through all the ways to convince Stiles to let them keep him, to make him happy and healthy and _theirs_...He’s also ready at any moment to snatch the steering wheel if Stiles passes out, so his focus is stretched a little thin. Stiles seems to be getting better though, like he really just needed some time for his battery to recharge. 

“Are you actually going to feed me?” Stiles asks as he pulls into the loft parking lot after Derek, parking a space away. “Or do I need to stab you for false advertising?”

“Of course we’re going to feed you,” Peter says. “You just vaporized a horde of pixies, you need more than Top Ramen and a chocolate bar.”

“Excuse you, some of us can’t live on filet mignon and lobster every day,” Stiles grumbles, getting out of the car.

“I think you have a very warped view of what people with money actually do,” Peter says, closing the door behind him. Derek’s leaning against his car, waiting for them. 

“Peter, maybe the reason people don’t like you is you say things like that,” Derek says with a deep sigh. 

“I think that’s the tip of the iceberg for Peter Hale dislike,” Stiles says. “Do you have any of that chicken left? I’m starving.”

There’s a tiny bit of false cheer in Stiles’ voice, like he’s forcing himself to sound as normal as possible. Peter and Derek glance at each other as they head inside and let it go for now. There is some chicken left, thanks to Derek always cooking enough to feed a small army. They set up at the end of the long dining table Derek found on OfferUp, Stiles on one side, Peter across from him, and Derek at the head of the table. 

Peter’s expecting Stiles to eat like a starved man and he isn’t disappointed. He’s seen him eat a truly astonishing amount of food after regular displays of magic, nothing near vaporization levels. Normally he’d make a comment about Stiles’ lack of table manners but reminds himself that they want Stiles in a good mood.

“So,” Stiles says, putting down his fork when he’s done. Peter’s a little surprised he didn’t make himself sick with how fast he ate. “How about you skip the questions about my soulmark and I’ll skip asking about how you’re each other’s soulmate. Deal?”

Peter hums, pretending to consider it, before saying, “Sorry, no deal. See, if we don’t talk about it, how would we ever tell you that your soulmark matches ours?”

Stiles rolls his eyes, then seems to realize Peter’s still looking at him intently. He looks to Derek, eyes widening when he sees how serious his expression is. His mouth drops open but for once, he doesn’t seem to be able to find the words for what he wants to say.

Derek doesn’t say anything, just turns and tug his shirt up, showing the three-fold knot on his shoulder blade, one third of it still a deep black. He only lets his shirt fall and turns back around when he hears Stiles murmur, “What the fuck?”

Stiles is looking between Peter and Derek, eyes wide, his heart racing. Peter’s a bit alarmed that he smells afraid.

* * *

“How is this my life?” Stiles murmurs under his breath, looking between Derek and Peter. Derek’s well aware that this could go very badly very quickly, and knows that sometimes cutting off Stiles’ impending thought-spiral is the way to go.

“Tell us why the concept of soulmates scares you,” Derek says softly, like anything too loud will make Stiles bolt. “And we’ll tell you why we’ll make sure you don’t have a reason to hate this.

“Soulmates are dumb,” Stiles says. Peter just raises his eyebrows. Derek says nothing, because he knows Stiles and knows he won’t be able to just keep his response to just that. “Changing your life for someone you just met is dumb! What if you don’t get along or don’t want the same things?”

“It’s a good thing we haven’t just met then,” Derek says simply. 

Stiles looks startled for a moment, like he hadn’t actually thought of that. 

“Stiles, we already know you. We know you want to go to Columbia and haven’t told your dad that you got in yet. We know you don’t want kids of your own but might want to foster some day. We know you’re practically bursting with magical potential,” Peter says, eyes intent on Stiles. Stiles squirms a bit, but doesn’t say anything. “So why don’t you tell us the rest?”

Stiles glares, eyes darting between the two of them, before sighing, resigned. “Look. My parents were soulmates and when my mom died...it devastated my dad.” Stiles pauses, pursing his lips. “He was like a zombie. For _years_. He went through the motions of getting up, going to work, eating meals, but it was like nobody was home. I don’t ever want to turn into that.”

“Stiles…”

“And that as _before_ Beacon Hills turned into a hellmouth,” Stiles says, interrupting Derek. “How the hell would I bring soulmates into a shitty situation like this? This upped their chance of dying on me or vice versa by like, 500%. But now...now it’s the two of you! And you’re both already right in the middle of the thick of it!”

“We’re hard to kill,” Peter says, and Derek wants to smack him on the back of the head because-

“You’ve literally already been dead!” Stiles says.

“And see, it didn’t take,” Peter says. “I’m still here.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Stiles,” Derek says, leaning forward, elbows on the table. He’s trying so very hard not to reach across the table and touch him. His wolf is pacing, desperate to bring their last soulmate in, to scent and touch and taste him. He clears his throat. “You aren’t your father. You aren’t going to lose yourself if something happens to us. And as Peter said, we’re...durable. You already know us, you don’t need to break us into the world of the supernatural, and you know we’d never try to take your autonomy.”

“We’re not asking you to marry us tomorrow,” Peter says. “We’re asking you to give this a chance. Because I know, sweetheart, that the three of us would be magnificent together.”

Derek swallows hard, trying to keep the hope fluttering in his stomach from overwhelming him. Peter...Peter’s reluctance about a third soulmate seems to have flown away in the face of that soulmate being Stiles. Derek thinks that’s a good sign, that it means fate was right, that things are falling into place, but Stiles is still biting his lip, smelling like want, looking like he’s barely holding himself back. 

“Please,” Derek says, careful to keep his voice from sounding too desperate. “Let us prove we can make this work.”

“Look, why would anyone want to be stuck with me?” Stiles asks, and Derek has a feeling they’re hitting the root of the problem. “What the hell do I have to offer? You’re both ridiculously attractive, obnoxiously smart, and are basically pissing money. I’m 17, talk too much to be likeable, am a smartass, and can barely afford to put gas in my car.”

“Stiles,” Peter says firmly, a voice Derek’s heard...a _lot_. “Please listen and try not to purposefully misunderstand.” He gives Stiles a pointed look before continuing. “We don’t give a shit.”

“You - what?”

“We don’t care about money, or that you’ll be at college next year, or that you talk a lot,” Peter says. 

“We care that you’re smart, and funny, and kind -” Stiles snorts, making Derek smile slightly. “Kind to _us_...most of the time. You’re strong. You’re probably going to be one of the most powerful magic-users on the west coast. You’re wonderful, Stiles. And we’ll be happy to remind you of that,” Derek says.

“You’re _ours_ , and we’re definitely going to discuss that with anyone who makes you feel like less than you are,” Peter says, tapping his claws idly on the table. 

“Why do threats of violence from you just make my stupid heart warm,” Stiles grumbles under his breath. He sighs before looking back at them. “It’s… _fate_ decided we’re right for each other. I don’t like the idea of you being interested in me just because you found out fate said so.”

“We were interested in you way before now,” Peter says. He leans forward, smile leaning toward the lewd side. “You should ask Derek exactly what we say about you when I fuck him from beh-”

Derek slaps his hand over Peter’s mouth, closing his eyes and praying for strength. When he opens them, Stiles is staring at them with his mouth hanging open and when Derek takes a breath in, he can smell the arousal rolling off him. 

“We wanted you before we knew you were our soulmate,” Derek says. “And despite how he’s acting, Peter’s actually pretty great when he cares about you.”

Peter pushes Derek's hand away from his mouth. “Careful, sweet talk like that will turn my head,” Peter says with a wink, but Derek knows how to spot the softness in his eyes. He hopes Stiles will stick around long enough to learn it, too. Peter stands, rounding the table before crouching in front of Stiles. Stiles is looking down at him with wide eyes, probably never having seen Peter in a position like this. “Stiles,” Peter says, voice low and serious. “I adore you. I’m reasonably sure Derek adores you. This has nothing to do with soulmarks or fate. It has everything to do with you.”

“Peter…”

“If you don’t want to complete the bond now, that’s fine,” Peter says. “We’re happy to wait as long as you need.”

Stiles looks at Derek, who nods immediately in confirmation. “As long as you need,” he says. “No fate. Just us. We aren’t going to stop wanting you.”

Stiles’ face is open and hopeful, like he’s finally starting to believe them. Good, Derek’s ready to take as much time as necessary to convince him.

“Okay,” Stiles says, smile slowly growing. “Okay, uh, let’s see how this goes.”

* * *

It’s nearly a year later that Peter and Derek fly to New York to visit Stiles over a long weekend. He’d gone to Columbia, to neither of their surprise, and has been settling in well. He’s flourishing in a way that was never possible in Beacon Hills, having time to dedicate to his classes, to make friends without having to worry about them being eaten. Peter is happy...and a bit worried, though he isn’t willing to admit that.

“Peter,” Derek says, exasperation in his voice. When Peter looks down, he sees he’s shredded the plane ticket in his hand. They’re in the back of a cab, on their way to meet Stiles, and okay, he hasn’t been hiding his anxiety well. “It’s going to be fine. He’ll be happy to see us.”

“If he still wants anything to do with us, now that he has all his fun new friends his age,” Peter grumbles, aware he’s sounding horribly jealous and petulant.

“He loves us, and that’s not going to change just because he found a fun study group,” Derek says rolling his eyes up like he’s praying for strength. The cab driver glances back in the rearview mirror before returning his eyes to the road. Peter’s sure it’s not even close to the strangest conversation he’s overheard.

Peter knows he’s being ridiculous, but he can’t seem to stop. He has a feeling his restless wolf won’t calm down until they’re back with Stiles. Derek presses a quick kiss to Peter’s temple before pulling out his phone, texting Stiles that they’re close, shaking his head at Peter. 

The cab driver keeps his mouth shut as he finishes the drive to Stiles’ building, pulling over when they reach the right address. Stiles is already standing in front of the building, grin taking over his face. Something settles in Peter at the sight of him, at how excited he obviously is to see them. He pays the cab driver, tipping heavily for him keeping his mouth shut, and follows Derek out of the cab. 

Derek’s already wrapped Stiles up in his arms, kissing him softly, before pulling back, letting Peter get close. Stiles’ eyes widen in surprise as Peter yanks him close, giving him a deep, filthy kiss, much too filthy for even New York’s streets. When he pulls back, Stiles’ pupils are blown, his lips swollen, and Peter’s wolf rumbles in pleasure. Derek snorts, their luggage in his hands, the cab now driving away. Peter hadn’t even noticed.

“Happy to see me?” Stiles asks, finally having recovered. 

“Very,” Peter says, taking his bag from Derek. Stiles just grins.

Stiles had made it one semester in the dorms before Derek and Peter found him an apartment, letting him escape his appalling roommate. It’s much bigger than Stiles thinks is necessary, and Peter and Derek refuse to tell him what the rent is, but Peter likes to spoil Derek and Stiles when he can and he’s more than happy to foot the bill. 

Peter’s grateful for the room, because this is the weekend they’re going to complete the bond, to finally touch Stiles’ soulmark and have him touch theirs. He’s not planning on leaving unless it’s to get food, and by the look on Stiles and Derek’s faces, they’re quite on board with that. 

Peter had planned to take it slow, to have a nice, romantic evening, but Stiles seems to have other plans. He grabs each of them by the hand, all but dragging them to his room. He winks before pulling off his shirt, turning around to show off his soulmark, still an inky black. Now it is, then.

“Get on the bed for us,” Peter says, his voice a deep rumble. Stiles shivers at the sound and does what he’s told, lying face-down in the center of the mattress. Peter’s cock is already hardening in his jeans, but he ignores it for now. There’ll be plenty of time for that later. He pulls off his shirt and drops it to the rug, Derek doing the same, before they both crawl onto the bed on either side of Stiles.

“You’re sure?” Derek murmurs, hand gliding up the soft skin of Stiles’ back, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Stiles trembles a bit at the touch, but doesn’t pull away. 

“Very sure,” Stiles says. “I’m ready. I want to be yours in every way.”

“You already are,” Peter says, fingers tracing around the soulmark on Stiles’ shoulder. “But I’m more than happy to do this.”

Peter and Derek glance at each other before slowly dragging their fingertips over the black soulmark, gasping as the bond flares between them. Two arms of Stiles’ soulmark knot shine bright iridescent, the other to remain black until Stiles touches them back. Stiles exhales sharply, hands tightly gripping the sheets next to his head.

“Switch,” Stiles says, jerking upright, nearly knocking into Derek and Peter’s heads while he’s at it. “I need - lie down, I have to - please-”

Peter absolutely understands, remembers the desperation when he and Derek first completed the bond. He lies down on his stomach, Derek mirroring his position, with Stiles on his knees between them. Peter’s head is turned to the side, letting him see Derek’s excited face and Stiles’ movements out of his peripheral vision. 

Stiles places a hand on their lower backs, drawing his finger up until he’s right at the edge of the soulmark. He hesitates, then asks, “Are...are _you_ sure?”

“Very,” Derek asks immediately. 

“Yes,” Peter says, using all his self control to stay still.

Stiles takes a deep breath before dragging his fingers over their soulmarks. The result is instantaneous, like electricity shooting through his veins. Stiles gasps, collapsing between them on the bed. Peter realizes that it’s not just Stiles that’s shaking when he puts a trembling arm around him, copied by Derek a moment later. 

Peter had thought it had been intense when he and Derek had bonded but that’s nothing compared to this. This is pure energy rushing through him, like all the adrenaline of running under the moon and being buried in his lovers and being an alpha all combined into one. It’s fate’s way of congratulating them on finally being together and they’re meant to be, wrapping them close in body and spirit.

Peter had always been able to feel Stiles through a pack bond, though it was weak since he's human. This now...this has bound them tightly together, and he can _feel_ Stiles now, feel his excitement and joy. He can even feel Derek better, like the three of them finally completing this had bound them even closer together. 

Stiles rolls into Peter’s chest, reaching behind him to tug Derek closer until they’re all tangled in a pile of limbs and trembling bodies. This is worth the wait, Peter is absolutely sure as he holds his soulmates close, their scents already mingling, his wolf settling with a pleased rumble in his chest. 

"Love you," Stiles murmurs from between them, answered by Peter and Derek a second later.

Peter holds on a little tighter. He has them now, and he’ll be damned if anything tries to change their fate.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [ tumblr ](http://www.hotpinklizard.tumblr.com).


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